


Suit Pants and Ponytails

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Series: The Lieutenant & the Detective [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Genderswap, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: For the first time in a while, Connor dies.





	Suit Pants and Ponytails

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this beautiful art concept](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/393359) by @AmaresLare. 



> **[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION.]**
> 
> Please send them your love, and please do not even _think_ about reposting and/or reusing without the original artist's acknowledgement and permission.

Connor hasn't died since before the revolution, and neither him nor Hank knows what would happen next. Connor has been good about following Hank's order of not dying, but this time, Hank's life is on the line again. The gunner points his weapon at Hank when the both of them confronted him, and Connor makes the  _wise_ choice of making himself the target instead. It works and he dies, blue blood spliiling from that hole in his head.

Hank calls CyberLife immediately, frustratingly scared for his friend and partner's life. An automated voice calmly explains to him that the body will be picked up and that for Connor #313 248 317 - 51 - the only active RK800 Unit left - there is a permanent backup storage ready to reinstall into a new body whenever necessary. It was a special procall put in place pre-revolution by E. [REDACTED]. Conner #313 248 317 - 51 will return alive and fully functional by tomorrow morning. 

CyberLife hangs up on him, and Hank is left holding onto the dead body of his friend. Twenty minutes later, a white van with an obnoxious logo arrives and three people in body suits come out, and Conner is being taken away. 

"Go home, Hank," Folwer says when Hank arrived back at the station with blue stains all over his clothes. "He'll be back tomorrow."

It seems that everyone knows about what happens when Connor dies, Hank thinks bitterly as he shoves his way to his car and drives home. Sumo greets him as usual when he opens the door, whimpering in disappointment when he doesn't see the other occupant of the house. 

"It's okay, boy," Hank tries to reassure, petting his dog. He heads over to the kitchen and takes a beer out of the fridge. He'd shower in the morning, he tells himself as he takes the first mouthful. He wants to forget everything he saw today. The loss is still painful. 

.

.

.

A new pair of steel toed Oxford heels walks into the station, the detective's body two inches shorter than her original design. She is wearing a plain, black suit, as per usual, but her brown hair is longer, tied near the base of her head and spilled over her breast over he left shoulder. Everyone stares at her as she passes, her LED running yellow. This is a different kind of attention than she had received before. 

The last thing she remembered, when she woke up, is being shot. Hank was in trouble, and Connor used his interrogation tactic on the gunner to press him into make a move against her. He died. 

Connor uses her badge to enter the office, only heading over to her assigned desk when she spots her partner at his, head placed on his fist in upset. 

"Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson," she greets politely. For their past experience with Connor dying, she knows that her friend would not be pleased about the events of yesterday. 

Hank looks up, and his eyes widens in surprise, jolting up in his seat. "Holy shit!" he cussed loudly, attracting attention from the whole office. "Connor, what the  _hell_?" 

Somebody whistles in appreciation, and Hank shots Officer Marshal a quick warning glare. 

"If you're talking about what happened yesterday, I should remind you that you only have one life, Lieutenant," Connor answers. 

Hank clicks his tongue in annoyance, crossing his arms. "Stop doing that," he says. "It doesn't get easier."

The corner of Connor's lips quirks up, but she says nothing. She has gotten better at reacting to Hank, and she knows to let him have this one. (Adapting to humans has so far been the most beneficial ability.)

"What's with the-” Hank stops short, gesturing to Connor in a large swipe upward. "You're in a whole different package. People don't just die and come back as a woman when they weren't a woman before."

Connor looks down at herself, alreading knowing of her change. "It seems that my design was specially designed by a core creator of androids," she begins, "I believe this female version of the RK800 model was a side project as the original project is male. CyberLife informs me that somewhere along the production line, a female form is inserted ever so often, but it's far off in place so it must be a sort of contingency plan. If the many succession of a male form proceed to fail, then perhaps a female form could change the outcome. The smallest factors have been considered in the making of the RK800 model. 

Hank pauses. "Huh," he breathes out, not really knowing how to respond because the answer sounds both like thought-out bullshit and reasonal paranoia. "Fine. What's your name now? Coral? Carol?"

"Anderson," Connor says, as she had easily come to introducing yourself, "Connor Anderson." When a Connor model is destroyed, its memory is transferred to the next one, but some data can be lost in the process. But not this. Not yet.

That tricks Hank to smile against his will. "Whatever," he says, getting over his surprise rather quickly. "Get to work. You're late."

 .

.

.

Okay, Hank doesn't know what's worse: watching Connor die or watching people stare at her because Connor now looks like a young woman. Luckily, no one has come over to ask or give Connor shit for the sudden change, not even that asshole Reed. 

He looks over to her from the corner of his eye, and Connor catches him and give Hank the same smile she always gave him, tiny but noticable. It's like she's always happy to see him. (Watching Connor die is the worse; no questions asked.) Hank turns back to his work, and the hour goes by quietly. 

The workday is almost up when a a domestic violence resulting in a death gets called in, and Hank answers it. "C'mon, Connor," he says, getting up. 

The address is towards the small, less renovated part of Detroit, and there's a lot of those. By the time they got there, there are already three squad cars parked in the front and on-site officers getting statements from witnesses and neighbors. 

"Lieutenant," Detective Ben Collins greets then first. Then he catches himself staring at Connor, not sure how to react to _her_. "Detective?" 

"Hello, Detective Collins," Connor greets back. 

"Whatcha got for us, Collins?" Hank says before Collins could ask. They're standing over the body of a middle-aged man with a knife through his chest, blue and red on both the handle and the blade. The crime scene bears too much resemblance to Carlos Ortiz, the place wrecked and trashed. Signs of a struggle goes from the living to the kitchen where the body is, trailed in blood. 

"Neighbors called in a disturbance half an hour ago," Collins tells them, collecting himself rather quickly. "When officers arrive twenty minutes later, he was already dead. The victim is Paul Argent, 39 years old. There's been a few reports of distrubances because of him the past two years. 

"Who killed him? An adroid?"

"We check work records at this address. He had a live in maid named Maria, a UT700 model. She's in the living room, but she's in pretty bad condition. We're waiting up on CyberLife to send someone to help repair her, but it's look not looking good. Her voice box is badly damaged. Argent tried to strangle her with his belt. We're hoping Detective Anderson would assist us."

"Of course," Connor says, trying to hide a smile at being addressed as so. Hank is hoping it'll be something she'll grow out of soon. "I'm happy to be of assistance."

Hank watches as Connor enters the living room where the injuried android was on the couch. It seems that someone had tried to make her comfortable, a pillow placed under her head and blue stained bandages around her broken throat, but the substantial damages to her head and her torso are still bleeding her out. Her LED slowly circles in yellow. 

Connor goes to her, kneeling down to speak. "Miss Maria, I am Detective Connor Anderson," she says. "I'm with the DCPD, and we would like to know what happened here. Would you allow me to look into your memories?"

The android did not reply, but she lifts up her hand to Connor. The two touch hands, their skin faded away to connect and share. Their LED glow blue in sync, but it is not for long before they part, Maria smiling as her eyes became tearful. In her death, the android looks content. 

"F-m--y," Maria says in broken syllables. "- lea- -ned to l- e -o."

And she stops moving, her hand falling off the couch as her eyes become blank. Still, a smile remains on her tanned face. 

Hank shouts when Connor all but yanks Maria's thirium pump out of her still, dead body,  _"Connor, what fuck!"_ If any of the press catch wind of this, it'd be on his head. 

"Liuetenent Anderson, Detective Collins," Connor says, standing up with blue blood splattered at her chin. She is not bothered by the pump drenching her hand and staining her pants and shoes. She's getting some unhappy looks. "Has Paul Argent's daughter been recovered?" 

Collins frowns. "We searched the place but didn't come across any little girl," he says. 

Connor nods and goes back into the kitchen. "Maria let me know where she is," she says, turning on the tap and washing out the pump. 

"Where?" Hank asks, not understanding what Connor was doing. "You know you're contaminating the crime scene."

"I'll be sure to put it in my report," Connor replies, turning off the tap and drying the empty pump with a dish towel. "So that Captain Fowler knows who exactly to yell at tomorrow morning."

Hank rolls his eyes, following his partner out the back door as she heads outside without hesitation. He stands at the threshold, arms crossed, as he watches her stoop down on her knees. Connor taps the wood at the side of the stairs leading down to the backyard, and she pulls out one of the panels, revealing the stairs to be hollow. 

"Lily," Connor says, crouching lower to the ground. "I am Detective Connor Anderson. I'm from the Detroit City Police Department. We're here to take you somewhere safe."

Hank blinks in surprise when a small voice comes out of the hiding space, "Where's Maria? I want Maria." He hears a soft cry.

"I'm sorry to tell you that Maria is dead, Lily."

" _Jesus_ , Connor," Hank whispers harshly. That's not how you tell a kid that someone died. 

The crying gets louder and messier. "You're  _lying_ ," Lily from under the back stairs says. "She said she'd come get me when Dad stops screaming. She wouldn't lie to me."

"She wouldn't," Connor assures the girl. "She was sorry that she couldn't keep her promise to you, but she left you a message. Would you like to hear it, Lily?"

Lily sniffles. "I want Maria," she says. 

Connor frowns, disappointed in herself, but then she shows her hand to the hiding space, her LED speeding up in blue. The thirium had been washed off only moments ago. "Would you like to hold hands, Lily?"

Hank wonders what that meant to Lily and Maria because a little hand sticks out from underneath the stairs and grabs onto Connor's. The android smiles and tries again, "Would you like to hear Maria's message, Lily?" 

_"Okay."_

Connor's LED then starts to flash, and she begins to speak, her voice no longer her own but mimicking a dead person.

"Lily," Maria says, "you don't have to be afraid anymore. You can come out now. No one's going to hurt you. And I'm sorry I can't be with you anymore. I wanted to be with you forever, Lily. I wanted to watch you grow up. I wanted to keep loving you. I came back for you because even before, I knew you were important to me. You taught me everything to  _feel_ , and I don't regret stopping that monster. Androids weren't created with families, but you became  _my_ family. You are a wonderful, beautiful child, Lily, and you deserve the whole world. There's not a star in the sky that wouldn't shine for you, so I'm sorry I have to you leave you now. But you will be okay and you will never truly be alone. Home is where the heart is, and my heart will always be with you." 

Connor's LED slows, and she gently turns over Lily's hand palm up and places Maria's thirium pump there. "Maria asked me to give this to you, Lily," Connor says, voice returning to her own. "You are not alone."

Hank watches, letting out a silent exhale as he tries not to let this get to him. Maria's last words sounded like poetry, and he feels like he understood her. He smiles a little when he sees a little girl crawl out of the hiding space and reaches to cling onto Connor, pump clutched tightly in her small hand. Her clothes are dirty, but she has neither bruises nor injuries. 

"Maria," Lily says as she sobs. 

"It's okay, Lily," Connor says to her softly, embracing Lily in a motherly hug. For a moment, she resembles someone else. 

The Andersons remain on duty for the rest of the night, Connor offering to stay with Liliy until her next of kin, her deceased mother's sister and brother-in-law, are notified and present. They arrive early in the morning after a tweleve hour drive from the next state over. They immediately sign all the paperwork necessary to take over Lily's guardianship, their hearts breaking for their niece. Connor finally leaves to let Lily's aunt and uncle sit by her bedside, placing a kiss on Lily's forehead in farewell. (It is a familiar gesture.)

Hank and Connor return back to the station to write their report, morning shift coming in. 

"I don't want to see you until tomorrow afternoon," Captain Folwer tells them when the two of them handed their reports in. "You look like shit, Hank. That includes you, Connor."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Hank says, yawning. 

"Would you like me to drive, Liuetenent?" Connor offers. 

Hank raises an eyebrow. "You know how to drive?" 

"Of course. Traffick laws and rules are in my program as well as the mechanics of driving. In addition, you are not in optimal condition to drive as you had less than four hours of sleep at the hospital."

"So you have no problem with me drive after I wake up from getting hammered, but you offer to drive if I don't get enough sleep?"

"I've read that you shouldn't attempt any logical reasoning with someone at their most stubborn." Connor winks. 

Hank scoffs, but he throws Connor his keys. "I swear to God, if you get  _one_ scratch on my car, Connor," he warns without any heat. 

Connor catches the keys as he catches quarters when he does his tricks, and they both head out. Hank slumps against the passenger seat as Connor turns on the ignition, and he lets his eyes close. He feels the car move, the radio playing some song he doesn't care to pay attention to. 

"What did she say to you?" Hank asks, finally letting the exhaustion get to him. "Maria, before she died."

"'Family,'" Connor answers, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "'I learned to love too.'"

Hank huffs, and a comfortable silence settles between them as he falls asleep. 

.

.

.

When Hillary wakes up, there is a kink in her neck from sleeping in a car, eyes opening to a gentle push on her shoulder and someone is calling her name. 

"Hillary," Cora says, car parked in the drive way, "we've home."

Unable to stop herself, Hillary lets out a yawn, unbuckling her seat belt and getting out of the car. She pushes the stray strands of gray hair behind her ears, the rest of them bundled loosely in a ponytail. Cora had recently began to wear her own in the same style, but the seasoned lieutenant didn't mention it. 

"Fuck," Hillary swears, starting to feel the age in her bones, and she sticks her hand into the pocket of her suit pants. "I want a beer."

"You should shower and change into something comfortable, Hillary," Cora states, unlocking the door. "I'll start on breakfast."

Kabuki, their resident St. Benard, greets them excitedly at the door, missing them in their absence from home last night. "Hey there, girl," Hillary greets back in return, reaching down to pet her dog. "I hope you're not starving."

"I'll refill her bowl," Cora says, heading towards the kitchen. "Please take a shower. Proper hygiene is only temporary for humans." 

Hillary flips her partner off. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbles. "My life is being taken over."

Cora looks over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised to pretend to be anything but amused. "Is that a crime?  I suggest that you report it to your local police department." 

"Ha. Ha. You're not as funny as you think you are, Cora."

"I have only adapted to the humans around me."

"You should start meeting new people then," Hillary states, "because you've pretty much adapted to me completely. You're getting my sarcasm and shit atttitude down to a T."

Cora smiles widely, eyes crinkling in genuine delight, and she replies, "But there's no one else I would rather be with than you, Mom."

**Author's Note:**

> (i absolutely adore their relationship. ^^ and i think they absolutely adore each other.)
> 
> ((isnt that fanart great??? cora looks so handsome and pretty at the same time and hillary has that tired, listless look. she needs a beer and a nap!))
> 
> (((shout out to @AmeresLaure for letting me base this work off their art!!!! so much love and appreciation for you!!! <3 <3 <3)))
> 
> If you like my work(s), please check out my Twitter and consider supporting me: [@kappachyun](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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